Waking Up is Hard to Do
by Spikesgirl58
Summary: Napoleon dances in an apron. What's Illya to do? Warnings: slash


Even before Illya opened his eyes, he was smiling. It was a self-satisfied, cat-that-ate-the-canary smile. It curled his toes and set off little explosions of happiness in his brain.

Beneath him silky soft sheets caressed his naked body and soothed his skin. He did so love waking up in Napoleon's bed. It was a far cry from his twin size mattress of lumps and springs. One of these days, he would have to break down and buy a new mattress, but for now he luxuriated in Napoleon's queen size delight.

He reached out a hand and wasn't really surprised to find nothing of his partner but a rapidly cooling spot beside him. Napoleon liked to rise early any time Illya spent the night. Illya didn't know why and he didn't really care. He could smell coffee brewing and something else delightful, possibly bacon related.

Hs stomach growled and Illya finally opened his eyes. By habit, he glanced at the clock, even though they were both off today. More and more of their time off seemed to sync up these days and Illya found himself not hating that in the least.

Reluctantly, he crawled from the sheets, his smile fading as the results of their night's activities began to register. The small of his back was stiff from an unaccustomed position and there were bruises decorating his fair skin. Thankfully, in their line of work, bruises, even the most suggestive ones, were easily explained away.

Stretching, Illya walked to the connecting bathroom and used the facilities. He'd stayed over enough so that there was a toothbrush, razor and other toiletries for him to use. He skipped shaving, brushed his teeth and then wandered back into the bedroom. He opted for a pair of sweat pants and a tee shirt. There was no use getting dressed when in all likelihood he'd be naked within the hour.

That made him start smiling again and he felt a stirring in his penis. Then he opened the bedroom door and stopped dead in his tracks.

Napoleon was in the kitchen, doing something. That wasn't what caught Illya's attention. Napoleon was wearing an apron and nothing else. He was moving easily to some song Illya could barely hear and the sight was enough to send lightning bolts of desire straight to his groin.

"Oh, Napoleon, what you do to me," Illya murmured. He walked into the living room, wincing at the sun as it cascaded through the windows. "Where are my sunglasses when I need them?"

"I think you left them on the bookcase by the stereo," Napoleon answered. He offered Illya a mug of steaming coffee and a kiss. Illya bent his head first to the kiss and then turned his attention to the coffee, letting the aroma creep into his body. "You look like you are praying."

"I am. I'm praying that I have to strength to keep up with you." Illya sipped the coffee and sighed.

"Good?" Napoleon stepped behind him and slipped his arms around Illya's waist.

"Very." He took another sip and permitted himself to lean back into the embrace. "That's a very interesting outfit, especially the back. It's a bit daring"

Napoleon smiled. "Well, I was in a hurry and I didn't want to risk damage to any important parts."

"I commend your sense of caution. Such an injury would be most… inconvenient." Illya turned in his embrace and kissed his partner. "Very inconvenient."

"You sound like you have a plan."

"When I'm this close to you, there is only one plan that comes to mind."

"Oh, tell me more."

"Well, it involves stealth, trust, a leap of faith and stamina. Lots of stamina." Illya grinned. "Perhaps more than can be accomplished when one member of the team is wearing an apron and the other is holding a hot cup of coffee."

"I like how you think, Kuryakin. It's one of your best traits." Napoleon slipped his hands down the back of Illya's sweat pants and cupped each of Illya's buttocks.

He squeezed and Illya growled softly. "I definitely need to put down the coffee."

"What's stopping you?"

"You. When we're like this, I never want to another moment to progress. I want to be trapped here, a willing slave to you."

"Hmm, slave, I like the sound of that." Napoleon let his fingers start to explore and then gasped as a cascade of warm coffee splashed down his bare back. He pushed Illya away to arms' length.

"I warned you about the coffee." Illya smiled sheepishly. "Sorry about that, but perhaps we should get you out of your wet clothes."

"My wet…" Napoleon looked down at the increasing wet spot that had appeared where his penis had tent poled the apron. "What about breakfast?"

Illya kissed him while untying the knot from the apron strings. "I have all I need right here."


End file.
